disquieting

christmas

Luke De Dominicis

This Christmas,

no advent calendar.

Instead, I take a book,

a disquieting one,

and I open,

at random,

its spine

 

I read;

by thought alone I made

both echo and abyss.

A voice darkly smothers,

treacle taste,

his words in my mouth,

his words no more.

I stop.

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